Seven Years
by Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors
Summary: She won't let anything stand in their way. Not even seven years. ONE-SHOT. HOUSE CUP COMPETITION ENTRY: ROUND 2. RATED M FOR AGE DIFFERENCE AND LANGUAGE. TED/DOM


**This one was sort of a quick, fun one-shot I wrote for the second round of the House Cup Competition. It was a pairing I'd never even considered so I thought I'd give it a whirl. :) Hope you enjoy :)**

**Prompts:**

** : TeddyDominique, RemusSirius, or LunaGinny**

**2 Weather: thunderstorm**

**3. Action:A character must deny something**

**4. Dialogue: "Shut up and kiss me."**

**5. Emotion: Excited**

**6. Object: socks**

**7. Word: delicate**

**Bonus prompts (each prompt is worth one point)**

**1. Color: yellow**

**2. Setting: Library**

**3. Dialogue, "Don't you dare!"**

**4. Object:wand**

**5. Word: faith**

**Listen to: Justify - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus**

**Enjoy :)**

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_**~ Seven Years ~**_

* * *

She studied herself.

It really wasn't fair. Veela, even in the most minimal fraction, were expected to be uncommonly beautiful. And yet, one could easily take a look at her and decree that she was as common as they come.

Her hair was dreadfully red-the color of blood-and she had more freckles than she could count on all the fingers of an army. Her body was too thin and too short and her feet turned in when she stood still.

She supposed it would be rude to blame her father...but, in all honesty, his roguish looks hadn't quite mixed well with the breathtaking vision that was her mum.

Merlin, she hadn't even achieved that sexy French accent.

Somehow, the commonplace genes that had taken her seemed to have skipped both her siblings.

_They_ were striking. _They _lived up to the Veela name.

_And yet he wants __you__, _she reminded herself, desperately trying to rescue her ego. Wallowing in self-pity would achieve nothing, and neither would standing here all night staring at her reflection.

He was waiting.

A clap of thunder ripped across the grounds outside her dormitory window, shocking her into motion. She glanced over her shoulder at the room's sleeping occupants, completely oblivious to the night of debauchery that lay ahead of her.

_No, _they would think. _Not little Weasley. She's a saint._

Something about this thought made Dom smirk to herself, hitching up her mustard yellow stockings and checking that the garters were in place.

She mustn't keep him waiting.

And so it was that at exactly one in the morning, she slipped out of Ravenclaw House, paying no heed even as Helena's glistening, transparent figure cast a disapproving glance her way.

_I deserve this. I deserve this, _she chanted. _I've waited so long for him._

Padding silently through the deserted halls, she couldn't help but be a little skittish. It was disgraceful...unheard of...immoral. If she was caught, more than one reputation would be ruined.

And yet the feeling stirring in her gut wasn't shame, nor was it fear. To be honest, she couldn't really tell _what _it was.

Where had he said he'd meet her again?

Merlin, she'd forgotten! All these electric thoughts coursing through her brain rendered her near useless. Because he was in the castle...he was breathing the same air she was breathing...

He was back.

As a first year, Dom had been a ridiculously swooning, little girl, blushing at every meaningless glance and giggling with her dormitory friends over his hair and his eyes and his...what was it they used to say? _Glistening physique? _

Good lord. It was startling how much things had changed in a few year's time.

No longer was she a little girl, and no longer did she swoon over a supposedly unobtainable seventh year.

Now she was fifteen. Almost a woman.

And he _wanted _her. Somehow, her freckles and her scarlet head had captured his attention, and on the very last day of his Hogwarts term, he'd confessed such.

In more words, or less.

_"You are indeed very lovely, Miss Weasley," he murmured, tilting up her chin. The top of her head just barely reached his chest. "If only you were older, Miss Weasley. My lovely Miss Weasley..."_

His hair had been blue that day. A stunning, vibrant, sapphire blue. She remembered it perfectly. She'd looked up at him like a god.

Lost in her thoughts again, Dom forced herself to stop walking.

_Oh, now where the hell am I?_

With a huff of frustration, she placed her hands on her hips, spinning in a circle. The unfortunate thing about Hogwarts hallways was that most of them looked relatively the same.

This hall could've been anything from the Transfiguration corridor to the passageway toward Hufflepuff House.

Muttering under her breath, Dom took off around the corner, intent on finding a landmark of some sort to pinpoint her location. One would think, after five years at this school, she'd know the layout by-

She was quite abruptly seized.

_Seized._

Captured around the waist in a grip that was like iron, and in the same instant, like a caress. The smile blossomed upon her face before she could help it.

_Teddy..._

"Where've you been?" came his soft, velvety voice, masked by a whisper. He turned her in his arms to face him.

Unprepared, his remarkable image was thrust upon her, beguiling height and all.

Merlin, she would never get over his appearance. At approximately six-foot-two, he towered over her, his face shadowed over by the currently sea green fringe on his forehead. His eyes were ice blue this day, and seemed to burn right through her skin.

"I-I-" Her throat closed on her words.

Ted gave a short huff, glancing back and forth across the hall before dragging her forward a few feet. Her location became abruptly clear.

The entrance to the library.

Her eyes fell back on Ted as he cast a few strange, indecipherable charms he must've learned during his Hogwarts years. The doors to the library flung open.

It'd been almost four years since she'd last seen him, and while she could see the change in age, he remained as handsome and as youthful as he had at eighteen. And as he towed her through the darkened halls between book stacks, casting _Lumos_ to light the way, she had the sudden urge to _touch. _

Using the hand he didn't hold captive in his fist, she quickly matched his hasty stride to run her fingers down his bicep. Even covered with the dark cloth of his Ministry robes, she could feel the straining muscle beneath, tensing under her touch.

He glanced back at her, eyes abruptly shifting to a deep, lustful amber. Not a moment later, he'd spun her around and pressed her up against a dusty bookshelf, a husky groan rumbling from his throat.

Dom clenched her thighs together, breath catching.

"I feel so sick," he growled into her hair. "I feel like a sick, depraved, old man." But even as he said it, he sucked in lungfuls of her scent, holding her closer than necessary.

"Teddy," she whispered, "we've been through this. You aren't sick...and you're only twenty-one...certainly not _old." _

He pulled back to look down upon her, brows creasing. Releasing his vise grip on her wrist, he ran his fingers over her bottom lip, dragging it down. She restrained a moan.

"Look at you...look how lovely you are. So delicate. So young..." and his face changed suddenly, hair drenching a violent, blood red. The color of anger. "Merlin, so _fucking young..._what am I _doing?"_

And he wrenched himself away from her.

"No! Teddy, stop!" Dom rushed. She'd predicted a panic attack like this.

_Be firm, Dom. Be firm._

"Don't you dare do this now," she snapped, and his eyes found hers in shock. Steeling herself, she stepped toward him, finger extended in reproach. "I have waited for _four goddamn years _for you. Do _not _back out now."

He gave a desperate look. "Dom...have you even thought about it? I know I haven't done. Not nearly enough." Running a quivering hand through his hair, he manipulated it to an uneasy, pale blond. "There're seven years between us! It's as if I'm a..._pedophile_, or something..."

Dom's arm shot forth, and without thinking, she yanked him to her by his silver tie. "Shut up. For Merlin's sake, just shut up."

He opened his mouth, but she clapped a hand over it.

"No. That was always your problem, Teddy...you never would just_ shut up._" She wondered vaguely where all this courage was coming from. "I remember. You don't think I remember, but I do. When you were a seventh year...and Fawcett was accusing you of drinking with Yaxley...and you just wouldn't _shut up_. I swear, you practically begged for a week's extra detention..."

"But I-"

"I'm asking you, Ted-for _me_..." and she waited for him to go completely silent, eyes wide with panic as he stared at her, then said, "Kindly shut up and kiss me."

He looked taken aback, trying instantly to pull away again, but she held firm on his tie, shaking her head.

"No, Dom-no. I've never-I wasn't...that wasn't my intention tonight. I-"

She surged forward and claimed his lips in a timid, amateurish kiss. Just a peck, really. But the sparks were there. The _explosions_...were there.

"A little faith, please..." she breathed, pressing her forehead to his. "I'm not afraid if you aren't."

And for the first time, it became clear to Dom what people meant when they said men had no restraint. Like beasts.

Because not a moment later, his lips were sealed with hers and his hands were under her shirt, backing her into the bookshelf once more.

_Oh, yes, _Dom thought, smirking to herself, _poor, prudish Weasley indeed._

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